“The Jamaicans are rather tired of the pirates, Lt. Dinman. They’ll be happy to see a few on the bottom. This may be a long chase, lieutenant,” Neville added. “With this wind we’ll all weather the peninsula with no trouble. Then the question is whether Ferret can get inside us to hide in the cul-de-sac. I am going below to see if I can withstand this rough sea well enough to study the French chart we obtained from the Comtesse.”
In half an hour, he had given up on trying to read below and had come back up to pace the quarterdeck.
“Something’s different, Lt. Dinman. What’s afoot?”
“We’ve held her to the wind, Sir, which is, as you can tell, much less now, but it has veered more north. Seas have eased as well, look. Maybe nine or ten feet; and our speed is six knots last we heaved. Ferret’s there in plain sight, and I think we’ve gained maybe a cable.”
Neville stared at the compass a moment, then to starboard, where he could see land in the distance. He then dashed below, leaving a stunned Dinman standing alone by the rail. In his cabin, he pulled out the chart he had of Hispaniola, pricked it at their supposed position, and drew a line forward on their course. A cautious smile grew on his face.
Returning topside, he called Greaves, Ratshaw, Dinman, Tilburne and Daweson together and announced, “We may have them, gentlemen. We are now in the Bay of Angels, and the shore, which you can see over there,” he said, waving his hand, “continues northwest for some time until it reaches the end of the peninsula that makes up the southern arm of the cul-de-sac. And there, where we cannot yet see, the land comes out to a head. As we sail now, they should weather it without a tack, but if the wind continues veering as it has been they will not be able to do so when the time comes. That time should be in the first dog watch. There they will have to decide on fighting us or tacking to run out to sea. If they do the latter, I doubt they can outrun us. Savage is behind us, too, you remember, and she is farther off land because she cannot point as high as we do. She would be in a position to intercept. Plan on an early dinner.”
As the afternoon wore on, they sailed hard on a bowline to the north-north-west.
Mr. Dinman interrupted the captain’s pacing, “Mr. Beebe’s humble respects, Sir. He asks if he could try a chase gun, Sir, as it has quieted so.”
“Tell him that I applaud his enthusiasm, and I respect his abilities, but I do not wish to waste the shot and powder. Tell him that he may try when the sea has calmed to four feet.”
Neville stood watching a pod of a hundred and more porpoises crossing the ship’s path. Some changed their course for a while to play in the ship’s bow wave, flipping and spinning. He walked forward to the bow where Mr. Gooden stood as well, staring down into the water.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Gooden,” he said, feeling somewhat as if the situation called for quiet introspection. His mind drifted away in thought – but not quiet, per se. It was not quiet on the foredeck. The sound of water rushing past was continuous, overpowering the sound of the wind flowing past his ears and rustling the rigging, and both were overpowered when the ship reached the upturn of the next wave after a trough had passed, smashing into it with a ‘boom’ and a ‘whoosh’ and throwing downwind a great splash of white water. The porpoises could not be heard at all, although Neville knew they whistled and chattered whenever their snouts poked above the water’s surface.
“Amazing, isn’t it, Captain,” Gooden said after watching a few minutes more. “Who calls them to be here? Whither they go, and why?”
“I think it is not for us to understand, Mr. Gooden,” he replied as he looked forward. In the distance ahead he could see Ferret, running for her life less than a league ahead of them. Another light rain shower crossed between them, leaving Experiment dry except for the spray that came from her own bows on the occasional large wave. Ferret disappeared for a moment until the rain had passed, then showed clear in the afternoon sun. Beyond her, a faint gray line was visible slightly above the water. “Mr. Gooden, did I see something there ahead of Ferret? At the horizon. Land, perhaps?”
They both stared and squinted for a minute, Gooden with his hand up to shade his eyes until he replied, “Yes, I think it may be.”
Neville turned quickly, face to the masthead, and yelled up, “Mr. Worth! Awake, there. Is there land ahead of Ferret?”
“Aye, Sir, there is. Bow on.” The response was difficult to hear because Neville was upwind of the mainmast, but he understood it well enough. The head had appeared sooner than he expected, though it must be several miles off yet. His heartbeat jumped with the knowledge that something must happen soon. “Clear for action, Mr. Ratshaw. Beat to quarters!” he howled back toward the quarterdeck, and began a quick march, as nonchalantly as he could manage, aft. The noise resulting from his order began around him as he moved aft; the drums and pipes and tramping and yelling. The motion of the ship was still quite lively upon the sea, but he decided it was time to allow Mr. Beebe his amusement. He met Sgt. Daweson along his route, and requested he pass word on to Beebe.
“Now we wait,” stated Neville to Greaves and Ratshaw upon reaching the quarterdeck. “We’ll let Mr. Beebe take his ‘potshots’. It may prove fruitful to warm up his gun. Ferret cannot continue this course forever, and may decide to turn at any moment.” He decided to pose their situation to Ratshaw as a training exercise. “Lt. Ratshaw, may I have your opinion of her options? What would you do if you were there commanding Ferret?”
Ratshaw was taken a bit by surprise, trying to decide if this was a test or if his captain was truly seeking his advice. Deciding that there should be no difference in his answer either way, his reply after a short pause was akin to thinking aloud, “I have a headland before me that I cannot weather, but my ship is fast enough to have outrun my pursuers for mile upon mile. I cannot be sure if she will outrun them downwind, and therefore I see three options. First, if we can perform two tacks without missing stays, I might tack sou’west soon, and then again onto this course once I am wide enough to weather that head. Second, I might simply tack and run off sou’east from whence we have come, except there is that second ship behind me, who might cut me off and cause great mischief. This one right behind might also run faster than we do, as I said before. Thirdly, I can choose to fight, making only one tack to gain the weather gage.” There he stopped.
Neville looked at him for a moment as the marines tramped past on their way to the mizzen.
“So, what is your choice?”
“Choice, Sir. Aye. This is an awful sea in which to fight. We can scarce aim a gun.”
“You are commanding, sir. You must choose, and choose soon,” Neville demanded.
“Aye, Sir; choose. I believe I would tack sou’west soon to gain sea-room beyond both my pursuers and then run. I would wait for a shower to hide my move.”
“Excellent, Lt. Ratshaw. It may make little difference which you choose, but it imperative that you do so and then issue clear orders to the company to execute your decision. But no matter,” he continued with a rising voice, “Here is your shower of rain! We may know very soon what they have decided.
Another squall began. It marched across the sea from Ferret’s position to theirs, first hiding Ferret, then the sea between the two, and finally engulfed Experiment in the downpour. When it had passed by and they could see ahead, Ferret was no longer running from them. She was pointed away from land and running before the wind with all sail she could carry.
“She did just as you said, Lt. Ratshaw, Ferret has tacked!”
“Prepare to tack!” shouted Neville, “Follow their lead!”
Midshipman Weller was running for the foredeck. Tilburne and his mates had begun piping.
“Ready on the braces,” stated Greaves.
“Helm over! Now! Run out starboard guns, Lt. Ratshaw.”
The rumble of gun carriages was felt above the liveliness of the ship. Topsail yards were coming around smartly as Experiment began her tack, followed by the rattle of jib and forestay sails luffin
g as she came through the wind. She was smacked hard by an unusually large wave, momentarily halting the turn and causing Neville to fear she would be caught in stays. His thumping heart quieted as he saw that Mr. Weller, the seasoned midshipman up on the foredeck, having the forestays’l held aback. The ship almost stalled, but began turning through the wind again. Mr. Weller had the sail released, and it cracked over to larboard with a force that caused the ship to shudder.
Experiment’s turn had taken longer than Neville had hoped, since they did not begin until Ferret had completed her move. Ferret now had the weather gage if she wished to attack, and apparently, she did. She had tacked and opened her sails larger and was coming down on Experiment.
“It looks as if she will come alongside to fight us, Lt. Ratshaw. See to your gun crews.”
Savage could be seen to have tacked as well. She was about a league behind the two leading ships, and would be in a good position to intercept Ferret if she tried to run.
At two cables distant the first gun fired; Ferret’s stern chaser. Smoke blew past them shortly after the ball dropped into the sea in front of Experiment, and Ferret drew ever closer. Mr. Beebe fired the starboard long minion with equal success. Without warning, Ferret turned downwind, undoubtedly looking to cross Experiment’s bow and present her with a broadside as she passed.
“She will pass behind us, not before,” said Mr. Greaves, after standing at the starboard rail studying the relative motions of the two ships for a minute.
Ferret’s chaser and Mr. Beebe’s each fired again. A hole appeared in Experiment’s foremast staysail. Ferret had neared to one cable and was closing the distance rapidly.
Neville bellowed to Lt. Ratshaw, “Fire as she bears!”
Experiment’s guns tore holes in Ferret’s foredeck rail and sails as she passed, but it was not enough damage to subdue her.
“Turn downwind parallel to her course, Mr. Greaves,” said Neville, and yelled, “Run out larboard guns, Lt. Ratshaw.”
Experiment was now on a parallel course, but behind Ferret.
“Ferret’s too far ahead for a broadside, Sir,” said Ratshaw.
“Keep Mr. Beebe at it on the bow chaser, lieutenant,” said Neville.
Beebe fired again, and a hole appeared in Ferret’s maintopsail; it split from top to bottom. Both ships had been sailing under topsails and forestaysails alone due to the strength of the wind. The hole cut Ferret’s driving force by a third.
“We’ll gain on them now, Lt. Ratshaw,” said Neville just before Ferret’s mizzen course dropped and was sheeted home. Both Beebe and Russell fired chasers. No effect of the shots showed, but Ferret’s mizzen unexpectedly toppled forward and twisted, placing most of the sail in the water far out to larboard of the ship. Beebe and Russell would both claim to be the hero, but it was entirely possible that the damage was caused by Beagle. Regardless of who caused it, the mizzens’ uneven force caused Ferret to lurch to larboard and roll heavily. Out of control, she now placed herself beam-on to the charging Experiment.
“Hard-a-starb’rd!” screamed Neville. Greaves was already helping his quartermaster to spin the wheel.
“Fire, Lt. Ratshaw! Fire as she bears!”
Experiment’s guns boomed out one at a time as they passed close by the damaged Ferret. The only response from Ferret, other than musket fire exchanged between the tops, was a single shot from the bow chaser. At this close range, the damage was great. Neville saw men being torn apart and holes appear in the hull, railings and the ship’s boats. That’s only fair, thought Neville as he watched Ferret’s launch go to pieces. Men were scrambling to chop off the mizzen. Despite the beating they had taken, others were unfurling courses. Three men on deck dropped, casualties of Daweson’s marine sharpshooters. Every man aboard Ferret knew that his fate, if captured, was most likely hanging. Possibly nothing short of foundering would make them surrender.
Savage had not stopped sailing, either. Once Ferret and Experiment turned their backs to the wind, the distance between the three shrank quickly. No sooner had Experiment run past the injured Ferret than the Savage passed her as well. Realizing that Ferret was still struggling to make sail, Savage added what insult she could with her limited merchantman’s broadside. It was a lucky broadside, though. Savage had loaded with ball rather than chain, and as she passed aft of Ferret, firing into her already-damaged stern, one ball parted the steering controls.
The pirates were neither new to their trade nor ready to surrender, even though they could no longer mount an attack. They abandoned any attempt to use sails aft of the foremast and made to sail away using the foresails to steer. This endeavor was soon recognized by Savage and Experiment for what it was – desperation. Since Ferret could no longer sail with any great speed, they took time to maneuver themselves to close on her, one on each side. By the time it went dark Ferret had been boarded and her men divided into two groups and locked in the holds of her captors. A skeleton prize crew comprised of sailors from each victorious vessel and led by Savage’s master’s mate would take her back to Jamaica. By four bells in the evening watch, the mizzen boom and mast had been secured on deck and relieving tackles rigged to a jury tiller.
“Be sure they fit large stern lights to Ferret, Lt. Ratshaw,” said Neville. Port Royal is forty leagues to the west, and I fancy no night collision.”
“We should be fine, Sir,” reported Greaves, “The seas are down to four feet and I think we have a typical steady moderate north-east breeze.”
An exceptional tropical night sail followed, allowing the three ships sufficient speed to reach Port Royal’s harbor late the next afternoon.
10 - “Prize Money”
Nothing disturbed them that first night in harbor. Officers were off watch, and there were no calls of ‘all hands’ for changes of sail. Only a few wandered the decks. The Master-at-arms walked to and fro, checking with the anchor watchman and calling his ‘all’s well”. There were a few complaints called up from the prisoners in the hold, but they were ignored. Captain Burton slept like the dead.
He awoke early, however. Maybe his body told him that there must be something amiss if he slept too long after the sun rose, or maybe it was simply an increase in the temperature. His cabin was usually cool, and had been quite comfortable at sea over the last few weeks during which time there was normally a nice breeze above. There was not much breeze now, and that was even with his gallery windows open. Ah, yes, open, thought Neville as he woke. Wide open. Mostly destroyed such that I can’t close them without a genie’s wish. Suddicke had swept most of the glass shards up and pitched them out the back even before the sun had set last night.
He rolled out of his bed and walked to the gallery. The panorama visible from the gaping stern hole included town, part of the harbor, and a section of the hills in the direction of the Fuller Plantation. There was no question that the hurricane had hit here. His realization that Maria would have experienced something of it suddenly gave him great concern. He could surmise only that his mind told him that people ashore were safe - that only people on ships were in danger – though he knew that wasn’t true.
Without a glass, he could see vessels awash on the beach – small ones that had been pushed ashore. There was a crude building of some kind without a roof, and considerable flotsam in the water.
I shall write a letter to the Fullers, informing them that I have returned safely, thought Neville, and post it when I go in to pay my respects to the governor, which must be today.
“Mr. Suddicke!” he called out. Suddicke’s face appeared from the pantry, looking tired but in good cheer.
“Coffee, Sir?” were his first words.
“And collops and some fruit, if you please. You are a gentleman after all, despite what Mr. Gooden tells me,” he quipped. “I see the bum boats coming now. Some will offer pineapple or shaddock; one of those will do nicely. And I must pay respects to the governor today. Please find my best uniform.” He had more than one uniform now. Port Royal had tailors, a
nd he had been able to have his uniform copied. “Send a boat over to the Comtesse for Lt. Verley and pass word for Lt. Ratshaw to join me, please. Oh, have that boat go ‘round Lord Aaron for Mr. Stokes as well.”
“All at once?” Suddicke mumbled. “Can we not simply begin with coffee?”
“I heard that, Mr. Suddicke,” Neville called. “Yes, you can begin with just the coffee. Then send the boat, pass word for Lt. Ratshaw, then collops and fruit – and more coffee, then the uniform. Thank you very much.” He donned his old uniform for breakfast and a quick tour of the deck.
Once his coffee arrived, Neville stepped up to the quarterdeck with a short glass to take an inventory of ‘his fleet’. The harbor was not so large that he couldn’t see every ship there, and he was surprised to see the collection of shipping present. In a year when over 200 ships called at Port Royal there would normally be ten or fifteen in the harbor at any given time. Probably due to the hurricane as well as his fleet returning, there were by his count forty-seven anchored ships. Experiment was the third largest. Two great Spanish merchantmen, certainly driven in by the storm, were already preparing to leave. One had boats in the water to tow her out. Lord Aaron, Savage, and three other similar ship sloops were there. Camelot had apparently braved the seas to sail with Lord Aaron. Wasp, Laurel and the battered Beagle had not arrived. He would need a report on that from Midshipman Stokes, as well as one from Lt. Verley regarding his crossing with the Comtesse and the little cutter Sprightly. The remainder of the shipping consisted of smaller vessels of one and two masts. He was most pleased to see a concentration of bum boats at one particularly sloppy little vessel lying well east of them. Numerous bright colors were visible in the shore launches, suggesting that the questionable vessel might be unidentifiable pirates who had come to Port Royal with a large sum of money to waste on the local ‘hospitality’.
A Journal of The Experiment at Jamaica (The Neville Burton 'Worlds Apart' Series Book 2) Page 16
